Extinction

-7-

Problem-solving. Mini-maxing. I put my fists to my temples and pressed there, and it felt good. I had been trained for this sort of thing—programming under pressure. I had to do the most with what I had.

I thought about it. I couldn’t produce a full ship, but maybe I could produce something that would do the job. Ideas began populating my mind.

I had a wide open slate. With Nanites building the ‘hull’ of any structure in any shape I wanted, I could use them like clay to construct anything, up to at least the size of the shed I was standing in. Probably, I could make something a lot bigger than that. I had plenty of nanites, after all. For nearly half an hour, the factories had been churning out bucket-loads of them. We also kept a reservoir of them in drums in the injection-room next door. That set me to wondering how Major Robinson was doing. I shrugged, not having time to coddle him right now. Hopefully, even if he was a bleeder, he’d passed out by now and the nanites were busily doing the repair work. If so, the worst was over for him. Tonight, he would learn about his new capabilities in action.

I decided to eliminate all non-essential systems first. The engines, scratch them. The arm? Forget it. No extra factories, either. I paused at that thought, however. Why not just make Fourteen here part of the system? Having a factory aboard the Nano ships had always been useful.

Next question, mobility. Did I need it? Was I building a tank, or a gun turret? There wasn’t enough time, I figured. Mobility was fantastic, making any force vastly more useful, but this was an emergency. If I produced a really cool tank one hour after they hit us, I had completely wasted the effort.

“A gun turret, then,” I said aloud. Fourteen didn’t respond.

“Fourteen, is the group-link still up?”

“Yes.”

“How many factory units will it take to build a single ship’s laser in one hour.”

“Insufficient data provided for estimate.”

I took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. I reminded myself that the freaking machines were all churning out more nanites as I tried to rewrite the script, so they weren’t completely wasting their time. “Fourteen, assume when I ask for timing estimates, that precision does not need to be closer than one tenth of an hour. Also assume that all components will be supplied.”

“Parameters assigned,” said Fourteen. Its voice was different than the Alamo’s had been. The ship had had a voice I thought of as feminine, but this machine spoke with a high-pitched male voice. As if I was talking to a jockey.

“Now, how many factory units will it take to complete a single ship’s laser in one hour.”

“Insufficient data provided for estimate.”

“Okay, you mental giant. What data are you missing?”

“Assembly time of individual components incalculable.”

I thought about that. There were three pieces to each hand-held beamer: the reactor unit, the cable and the projector itself. If a thousand machines made a thousand pieces, they could probably do it in minutes, but we couldn’t assemble them all and the effort would be wasted. It was best to use the three component system, and not try to break that down further. I’d built so many backpack beam units, I had been planning purely in those terms. My question had been unfair. These machines didn’t deal well with open-ended hypotheticals.

“Okay, I understand the problem,” I said aloud. “Fourteen, I want one idle unit to construct a reactor of suffienct capacity to power a ship’s laser. Start that process now.”

“Command failed.”

I felt the flash of rage so many humans before me had experienced when the computer refused to operate. I blinked, and thought about hammering my fist upon the intake nozzles. I controlled myself with difficulty. I considered my self-restraint to be a personal achievement.

“What is the error?” I asked, when I could speak again.

“Unit not specified.”

“Okay, assign unit Twelve to that task. Execute immediately.”

Hesitation. “Command accepted. Twelve is processing.”

“How long until it’s finished?”

“Two point seven hours.”

I felt a tickle of sweat under my armpits. I had to figure it would add up to three hours with the assembly process minimum, and that was assuming all the other components were done first. I knew from experience that the reactors took the longest of the basic three components to construct. I didn’t think I could break construction of the reactors down between multiple units, either. I just didn’t have time to work out the logistics, even if it was possible.

The big question was: Did I have three hours? It would be dark in one, pitch-black in two. Commandos liked the dark.

I ordered two more units to build the cable and the projector. We could probably do better, but there wasn’t much time. Thinking hard, I instructed two more groups of three machines to make the same things. With luck, I would have three automated laser turrets operating in three hours.

Then I realized I needed something else.

“Fourteen, I need an estimate on production of a motor-driven, rotating ball-joint, the same type used to form the core of a ship’s gun emplacement.”

Silence.

I sighed. I hadn’t actually told it to do anything. I’d only described a need. What did Fourteen care about what I needed? There was nothing for it to do, so it ignored me. “Fourteen, how long will it take to build the unit I just described?”

“One point four hours, given previously stated parameters.”

I set three more machines to working on mounts for these new guns. Next came the easy parts. I needed a somewhat-intelligent control system to operate the guns when they were assembled. This was easy because the nanites were flexible in this regard, all they needed to do was configure themselves into a cognitive swarm. You put them in a box, and you had a cpu. Given enough time and sensory input, they would learn their tasks and become reasonably intelligent. I ordered three brain-boxes built immediately. I didn’t want freshly-hatched systems doing the targeting. If we put them together now, they would have a couple of hours to chain-up and form their own clusters. It would also give us the time to expose them to other, more experienced brainboxes, allowing them to copy some useful software before they were installed in a turret.

I snapped my fingers then. I’d forgotten something. “Sensors—damn! Fourteen, I need three more units to build targeting sensor arrays.”

We had thirty-six factories. Soon, I had them all churning. Nanites dribbled out of half the machines, while the other half built components for me. The raw nanites would form themselves into shells to make the housing for the guns.

I decided not to get fancy with the placement of the new weapons. The reactors took the longest to build, so we would construct the towers right on top of the sheds that were responsible for making the reactors. That way, when the reactor pieces were finished, my men could just plug them into the rest of the structure, and the systems should be assembled and ready to operate.

I was putting the finishing touches on my construction scripts when the door shook with repeated, hammering blows. I raised my eyebrows toward it. Who could that be? Had Kerr come back demanding I surrender? Had Kwon’s men spotted invaders?

I threw open the door, frowning. My frown melted in surprise. It was Sandra, and Kwon stood right behind her, looking confused.

“I couldn’t stop her, sir. She said she had the right.”

“Hi hon,” I said.

She stalked in and slammed the door behind her, right in Kwon’s face.

I shouted to Kwon through the door. “Keep the men on high alert. Keep them patrolling.”

“Sir?” he roared through the door with unnecessary volume. “Who are we looking out for? Are the Macros landing here?”

“No, First Sergeant,” I said, “unfortunately, the invaders will be quite human.”

“Who will that be, sir?”

“Just shoot anyone who behaves like a hostile. I doubt they are going to serve us search warrants.”

I turned and faced Sandra. For about three seconds, she glared at me. Then she jumped on me and kissed me. I liked that part better.

She had her nice, long, tanned legs wrapped around the top of my hips. She was wearing a halter top and her boobs were almost in my face. We kissed for a full minute. She paused for a few seconds, glaring at me. I had a hard time keeping my eyes on her face. Then she started round two, and that second, minute-long kiss was even sweeter than the first.

I was in no hurry to stop, but she jumped down at the two minute mark and kicked me. She performed an impressive roundhouse that slipped her foot behind me and caught my left butt-cheek.

“You could have called!” she snarled.

I smiled back. If the next aliens that invaded Earth had the power to mimic humans, I was safe. No one could imitate my girl. “Honey, I was up saving the world.”

“I don’t care about that. You took off, right out of our window. You took off in the Alamo, and did it without me. Then you sat up there for hours letting me think you were dead. I know you could have called, because you called Kerr.”

“How’d you know about that?” I asked, trying not to look guilty.

“He called to pump me for information. I didn’t have any to give. It was humiliating.”

I snorted and reached for her again. She danced away, throwing up her arms. I had to stop myself from moving in a blur and grabbing her anyway. It was moments like this where self-control was the most difficult.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said.

“What? Do you want an apology?” I asked, bemused. It was hard to get too upset. I’d already gotten my kiss.

“That might help,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Okay then, you’ve got it.”

She blinked at me. “That’s it? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Love, let’s do this later, okay? I’ve got to get this base ready for a firefight.”

“What about me?”

“I’m shipping you out of here. I’m not even sure how you got in.”

She shrugged. “The chopper pilots—like me.”

It was my turn to be annoyed. But I really didn’t have time.

Behind me, the shed door creaked open. No one had knocked, and the sound of the intruder made me wheel around. I didn’t like the way he moved.

Robinson sagged in, holding onto the doorjamb with curled fingers. His shirt had been mostly torn away. Red lines mixed with gleaming silver shone through long lines in his skin. He’d clawed at his own chest. I’d seen it before. One of his cheeks was split open too, right from the corner of his mouth back to his molars. I could see his bloody, glistening teeth in there as he began to speak.

“Major Robinson,” he gasped, “reporting for duty, sir.”

“At ease, Robinson,” I said.

He sagged down in the doorway. Sandra came forward and checked his wounds, wincing. She’d seen some bad things in our time together, so she didn’t scream or freak out.

“Has he been hit?” she asked me. “Is this part of the invasion you were talking about?”

“Looks self-inflicted. He’s just taken the nanite injections.”

“They are that bad?”

“Sometimes.”

“Permission to be…” Robinson said from the floor. He took a break in mid-sentence to suck in a full breath, “permission to be pissed at you, sir. That was no trip to the dentist.”

I chuckled. “You don’t know my dentist.”

We helped him into a folding chair. I thought about offering him a drink, but figured it might not work out. The liquid would just run right out of that open cheek and down his neck.

“Relax, Robinson. You’ll live, even if you don’t want to. The nanites are knitting up your face as we speak. They tend to reconnect the nerves in damaged tissue last, I’m sure it’s only by lucky chance, but it helps control the pain.”

“Very encouraging, sir,” he gurgled.